


The Consequences of Divorce

by Omicheese



Series: Scandinavia Stories [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied Denmark/Norway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omicheese/pseuds/Omicheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denmark and Norway were split up after the end of the Napoleonic Wars.  So what becomes of Iceland?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consequences of Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> This goes along with my first Hetalia fic, "Personal Union," but it probably makes sense on its own, so long as one knows the context. In 1814, the Napoleonic Wars ended, and [Denmark](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denmark-Norway), on the losing side, [ceded Norway to Sweden](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Union_between_Sweden_and_Norway). However, Norway’s former dependents, including Iceland, remained in Denmark’s possession. [A bit of Iceland background](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Settlement_of_Iceland#First_explorers.2Fsettlers) wouldn’t hurt to know, either. I know that in canon they said that Iceland was Norway’s younger brother, but I figure that countries probably redefine their relationships over time depending on circumstances.

_Around 865_

_“Didn’t you wind up stranded out West on accident before? Why wouldja bother going somewhere like that on purpose?”_

_“I dunno. Somebody wanted to find that island Sweden said he’d ‘discovered’ and I got dragged along f’r the ride. I’ll probably go again later--other folks seem interested in the place, even if it is a ruddy icebox out there. Anyway, that doesn’t matter right now. Lookit what I brought.”_

_“...A baby? Where’dja find it?”_

_“Just sort of out there. Innee cute?”_

_“’Just sort of out there?’ Like out in the snow? No way! ...You didn’t steal it from anybody, didja?”_

_“...No. Besides, ‘e looks like me.”_

_“...Not that much.”_

_“I’m gonna call him Iceland.”_

_“You’re not keeping it!? You’re too wee to raise a kid!”_

_“Look, Iceland! This is where your Mommy lives! This is home!”_

_“Now you’re its mom? You’re a boy!”_

_“And over there to th’ East is your Uncle Sweden’s house!”_

_“You’re not listening ta me!”_

_“And... that’s Denmark.”_

_“...Hey, aren’t I his uncle too?”_

_“Hmm... Nope.”_

_“Hey, no fair! Brothers’re supposed ta share!”_

_“Maybe iffen you’re nice to me.”_

_“Aw, c’mon!”_

_“We don’t need him anyway, do we, Iceland?”_

_..._

*

_1814_

He’d been preparing for weeks, cleaning things up and stocking up firewood and patching up all the drafts in his house and making sure everything would be nice and warm and special because _Mom and Denmark were supposed to come today_. They didn’t come by too often. It was a really long way to their house, and especially during the winter the ice could get so bad that it was too dangerous to come by, and sometimes political problems would get in the way or they’d forget, but they always came by at least once a year. When they could. And when they couldn’t, it was ok, because they’d come by later, and then they might catch him by surprise and it would almost be even better because he wasn’t expecting it. And they always apologized whenever they couldn’t make it or forgot to come, and that almost made up for it, because when they were apologizing to him it meant that they weren’t fighting with each other, and it was always better when they weren’t fighting. They fought all the time, but it was still ok, because they didn’t really _mean_ it, and it didn’t matter anyway because _Mom_ was there, and everything was always better when Mom was there. And Denmark was there too, and he was ok, easier to talk to than Mom was. And Denmark could be really funny sometimes, and whenever they weren’t fighting he always made Mom really happy, Iceland could tell, because even though Mom was never very good at telling when people were happy Iceland could tell. Denmark was family now, Mom had said, back when Uncle Sweden and Aunt Finland still lived with them, but Denmark stayed family and Sweden and Finland went away. Denmark was family, like Mom. And _Mom_ was family, Mom _found_ him.

And they were supposed to come today. They’d told him before that they would, as soon as the war was over, they’d said. And the war _had_ to be over by now, they’d been carrying it on so long already. They hadn’t been able to come last year, just sent a letter on a trade ship saying they were sorry and that they’d come this year. They hadn’t been able to come the year before, either. Or the year before that. Denmark said that England was being a (but Mom told him not to repeat words like that, those were Denmark-only words), and that they had to stick by France because it was the man’s thing to do, but Iceland could never figure out just why it was so important that it would take all of their time. Iceland had never really been to war. He’d been raided once or twice, which he hated, but it was also really brief. War was long. War was long and it always kept Mom and Denmark really busy. Most of the times that they hadn’t remembered to visit were because they were fighting somebody else. But they always showed up eventually.

And they were supposed to come today. It had been so long since he’d seen them. He hadn’t been this excited about them coming since he’d been very small. He’d calmed down a lot since then. But today was different. This would be the first time he’d gotten to see them in years. They didn’t usually default on coming this many times in a row. That meant that today had to be even more special to make up for it. He’d been working on making sure it was warm enough for them, especially. They always complained about the cold, always had. That was one of the reasons why he used to have to go visit them, instead. But then it got too dangerous when the ice came, so instead they came to see him, and complained about the cold. But he’d worked on it. They wouldn’t complain this time.

And they were supposed to come today. He’d missed them so much. And when they came, Mom would hug him, and Mom was always warm, and maybe Denmark would hug him too, and that would hurt a bit because Denmark always hugged a little too hard, but it would be ok. And maybe they’d tell him stories this time, like they used to. He’d heard all the old ones, but maybe they had new ones, and he really wouldn’t mind hearing the old ones again. But even if they didn’t, it would still be ok, because Mom and Denmark would be here, and it was always better when they were here.

And they were supposed to come today. He sat on the dock waiting for them. Boats came in and out, and he could watch them if he really wanted to, but he was really just looking for the one that had Mom and Denmark on it. And he was willing to wait. He’d gotten good at waiting. It was a good thing to be good at, considering he went fishing so much, but by now he was _really_ good at it. Sometimes he would start sitting at the dock waiting for them the day before they were supposed to show up, just sitting there staring at the ocean, watching the ice float by. He could wait for _days_. Probably longer, if he had to, and it would still be ok, because some things are worth waiting for. Mom and Denmark were worth waiting for.

And they were supposed to come today.

There! On the very edge of the horizon, the ship was finally coming in. He could see the red flag (Denmark’s flag, with the white cross on it, not Mom’s--they stopped using Mom’s flag a long time ago, and Denmark’s flag was nice too), just barely, so he could tell it was them. They were almost here. He almost forgot to breathe.

He nearly ran up the gangplank when the ship docked, but he didn’t. He didn’t move yet. He just waited. Waited quietly. But his eyes roved the ship, taking in all the details. The wood looked tired. Maybe this ship had been in the war, too. Maybe it hadn’t even stopped at Mom and Denmark’s house yet, maybe it had just come straight here when it ended. Straight here to him. Maybe they’d wanted to see him that much, too. He could tell himself that, anyway. And that would make him happy, thinking about it.

Denmark came down, by himself, slowly. Something was wrong. He looked like he did whenever Mom and he had been yelling at each other all night, only worse. His feet made tired thunks on the planks as he walked. He didn’t look up at Iceland until he had reached the bottom. “Hey, kid,” he greeted. His face tried to smile, but didn’t do it very well. Half his mouth was stuck.

Iceland didn’t understand. He waited for a few seconds, and looked up at the ship expectantly, but his eyes met nothing. No one else was there. “Where’s Mom?”

Denmark looked back over his shoulder, not at Iceland, and swallowed hard. Suddenly he knelt down and pulled Iceland into a hug. It was even tighter than Denmark’s hugs usually were, and it hurt. He tried to pull away, but Denmark didn’t ease up. When he talked, it was all muffled in Iceland’s shirt. “Norway doesn’t live with us anymore.”

Mom doesn’t--“What happened?” Iceland asked cautiously. It didn’t make sense. Iceland didn’t even live at Mom’s house. He used to visit, though. Mom and Denmark’s house was Home--where the government sat and where the stories came from and where they all celebrated Christmas. Was that what he meant? Was Mom not at home? But why wouldn’t Mom be home, if he wasn’t coming here?

“War’s over,” Denmark gulped. Iceland could hear him next to his ear. His breathing was shaky and uneven.

Denmark never got upset like this. Iceland had never seen it. He almost didn’t believe it could happen. Denmark always got angry instead of getting upset, and then they usually just went to war over it. Nobody had been this upset since Mom finally stopped hearing from Greenland and didn’t come out of his room for a week. _Greenland_... “Is Mom--Is he... dead?”

“No! No, no, no,” Denmark recovered hastily, pulling back to give Iceland that almost-smile again and rub his hair a little. His eyes were red around the edges. “Nah, he’s fine, he’s fine. He just went ta go live with Sweden, is all. Don’tchu worry, ok?” _He_ was the one who looked worried. Iceland didn’t understand. Why would Mom go live with Sweden? Mom liked Sweden fine, but they warred against each other too often for Mom to stay there. And besides, Mom already lived with Denmark. At home.

None of this was making any sense. “Can’t you just go pick him up and carry him back?” That was what he always _used_ to do. One of the last times they’d had a fight, back when Mom had his own house, Denmark just walked right in there and carted him off, and there was nothing Mom could do about it. Iceland didn’t get to see it himself, but Mom had told him about it. He always made this face when he told it, so he must really not have liked it. Mom didn’t pull faces. But even if Mom didn’t like it, he wouldn’t mind so long as he was home again, right?

Denmark almost laughed for a second. “Wars don’t work that way anymore, kid.” He’d given up on trying to smile. It didn’t work today, anyway. He looked too tired. “And besides, I--“ he hesitated, closed his eyes, and breathed before he said it. “I’m not strong enough for that now.”

Iceland used to think that Denmark was the strongest person in the world. He used to win fights against Mom so easily, and Mom seemed so _strong_. After Denmark’s nose got broken and Sweden and Finland stopped living with everyone, though, he could tell Denmark wasn’t that strong after all. But then, that was why Mom was there. Put together they were stronger than anybody, or at least that was what Mom had said. Fight each other all the time, but go to war together. And they warred on Sweden a lot. Maybe Denmark lost to Sweden when he was warring on his own, but if it was Mom _and_ Denmark, they were always strong enough to keep what they had. Or at least what counted. Sweden _couldn’t_ win if Mom and Denmark were really trying hard. And they’d been in this war for so long, wouldn’t they have been trying hard? It didn’t make any sense. “Doesn’t Mom _want_ to come home?”

Denmark didn’t say anything. He just got to his feet, slowly. Then he ruffled Iceland’s hair again, a little rougher than before, and went to go unpack the ship. It wasn’t a good answer. Denmark had never been good at saying things. Mom--Norway was never good at it either.

It was cold.


End file.
